Where Is My Brother?
by search713
Summary: Charlie goes missing...
1. Chapter 1

Where Is My Brother?

"The FBI had been tracking the workings of the Vivaldi Family for months now," the blond female reporter from Channel 5 news said into the camera. She stood outside the Vivaldi house where countless other reporters stood hoping to get a glimpse of the arrest of Toni Vivaldi, one the most notorious Mafia leaders since Al Capone.

"Toni Vivaldi is a suspect in the deaths of five men in Los Angeles just this past year," the reporter continued, "And he has been rumored to have Mafia connections in New York and Chicago."

"Step aside, coming through." Don said to the reporters as he escorted a handcuffed Toni Vivaldi through the media and into a squad car.

"You got nothing on me," Vivaldi gruffly said to Don. Don smiled.

"Math doesn't lie," he replied. Don was sure to look into the camera as he said it.

Charlie smiled as he watched the news footage of his brother arresting Vivaldi on television at FBI headquarters with Colby. "Nice work," Colby said to Charlie, patting him on the back.

"Thanks, man." Charlie replied, blushing a little. For the past few months, he and Don had been working on tying Vivaldi to the deaths of the five businessmen. Yesterday, Charlie had finally worked out a statistical analysis that put Vivaldi at the scene of every one of those murders. It hadn't been easy. The guy was good at covering his tracks. He never left any fingerprints or DNA behind and any witnesses of the crimes would mysteriously disappear. There was no doubt Vivaldi was involved in numerous hits and criminal enterprises. Most of the time, he got others to do his dirty work; the FBI could only tie Vivaldi to these five murders. "It's enough to get him behind bars," Don had said to Charlie. Charlie agreed.

"Your chariot awaits," David said, smirking as he opened the cop car door for Vivaldi.

"Smirk now, Agent Eppes," Vivaldi hammered back. "Your evidence will never hold up in court."

"Haven't you heard?" David replied. "My boss has a math genius as a little brother. Happens to work for the FBI and has fine tune numbers that put you at those crime scenes."

"Numbers aren't proof!" Vivaldi answered back.

"That's enough," Don said, shoving Vivaldi into the back of the cop car. He didn't like having a criminal like Vivaldi knowing about Charlie. "We'll see you in court." And with that, the cop car drove Vivaldi away to prison.

"Congratulations, boys!" Alan Eppes said to his sons that night at the Eppes home. They clinked beer bottles as they sat in the living room, watching baseball. "Another murderer is off the streets thanks to your hard work."

"Yeah, for now anyways," Don replied. "It's up to the prosecutor to keep him there."

"Do you think our evidence will be enough?" Charlie asked Don. Don shrugged.

"I don't know, Charlie. Guys like Vivaldi, they're slick. They have high priced attorneys who will do anything to get their client off. They'll try everything they can to discount you on the stand. Just don't let them intimidate you when the time comes. With your testimony, we should be able to nail this guy."

"Well, no pressure on me, I guess." Charlie said casually. Don smiled. He was about to thank Charlie for his help when Charlie's cell rang.

"That'll be Amita," Charlie said. He took the phone into the dining room. "Hey Amita. Are you still at the lab?"

"Yeah," Amita replied. "Looks like I'm going to be at CalSci all night trying to grade these reports before class tomorrow. Why in the world I agreed to take on Dr. Rhode's and Dr. Brown's classes, I have no idea."

"You want some company?" Charlie offered.

"No, no," she answered. "You're with Don and Alan. I'll be okay."

"It's no trouble," Charlie said. "I'll pick up some pizza. We'll grade them together."

Amita grinned. "Pizza sounds great. Having your company sounds even better."

Charlie smiled back. "See you soon." He put on his coat and grabbed his backpack. "Gotta run. Going to meet Amita at CalSci."

"You're gonna miss the game!" Don said.

"I'll catch the next one with you. I'll see you tomorrow." Charlie said as he walked out the door. Don and Alan didn't get a chance to say goodbye.

Two hours later, Don's cell phone rang. It was Amita. She sounded worried.

"Hey Don, have you heard from Charlie?"

"No, I thought he was with you." Don replied.

"He said he was going to pick up some pizza and meet me at CalSci but he never showed up." Amita said into the phone. "When did he leave?"

Don stood up. "He left as soon as he got your call. That was like two hours ago. Did you try calling his cell?"

"Yea, I tried calling him three times. There's no answer." Amita said. Don started to get worried.

"Okay, well I'll try calling him." Don replied. "Maybe he just got caught up somewhere."

"Maybe…" Amita said to herself.

"Look, I'll try him now. If he doesn't answer, I'll go looking for him." Don offered.

"Okay, thanks." Amita said, hanging up. Something wasn't right, she thought to herself.

Thirty minutes later, Don was in his car driving to CalSci, hoping to get a glimpse of Charlie or his car on the way. It was around 10 pm now so it was pitch black outside. Don had tried all the pizza places in town and the hospitals. No one had seen or heard from Charlie. And his cell phone was going straight to voicemail. Don convinced himself that Charlie was fine, but when he spotted Charlie's car at the side of the road, his heart started racing. He quickly parked and ran towards the car. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the car's rear end was all smashed up.

"Charlie? Charlie!" Don screamed as he approached the car. Charlie wasn't in the car, but the keys and his backpack were. The car door was open so he went through Charlie's backpack and found his wallet and his cell phone was there. That didn't make sense. If Charlie was in an accident, he surely would have taken his stuff. Even if he was taken by ambulance, the EMT's would surely have grabbed Charlie's personal belongings. Don took out his phone and called David and Colby.

Four hours missing…

"Let's block this area off." David said to several police officers who had come to the scene. Don paced back and forth. He was talking on his cell phone.

"No Dad, it's better you stay there." Don said into the phone. "Charlie or someone else might call. Amita is on her way back to the house. I'll keep you updated. Okay, bye."

David approached Don. He could see his boss was very worried. "The damage on the back of Charlie's car isn't bad. Looks like another car rear-ended him. Maybe Charlie went to the hospital with someone."

Don shook his head. "I've tried all the hospitals. No John Doe's that match Charlie's descriptions. No one has seen him..."

"Don!" Colby called from a few yards behind Charlie's car. He was shining a flashlight on the ground in front of him. Don and David went over to Colby and looked where the flashlight was pointing. It shined on a pool of blood.

Don cursed. "That's blood…get it to the lab!" Don walked away. He couldn't believe this was happening. David tried to calm Don down.

"It may not be his, Don." David said.

"Somebody took him!" Don replied. "They rear-ended him and when he got out of his car, they grabbed him!"

"Okay," David answered. "Then we'll search the area; question anyone who might have a grudge against Charlie."

A thought flashed in Don's mind. He turned and ran towards his own car. David followed, calling after him. "What is it, Don?"

"It's Vivaldi, that son of a bitch," Don replied, getting into his car. "He knew that with Charlie out of the picture, there would be no evidence to put him in jail. He sent one of his men to kidnap my brother!" And with that, Don drove off.

One day missing…

"Where's my brother, Vivaldi?" Don screamed into the face of Toni Vivaldi. He had the man, dressed in prisoner attire, up against the wall of the interrogation room.

"How the hell should I know?" Vivaldi answered with a smirk on his face. "I'm locked up in here."

Don grabbed his shirt and squeezed. "One phone call is all you needed."

Vivaldi shook his head. "The only calls I've made are to my wife and my attorney. Check the records. You'll see."

"Oh, I will." Don replied. "Let me be clear: I want to know where my brother is right now. Tell me or I swear to God you'll be sorry."

Vivaldi laughed. "Is that a threat?"

"Damn straight it is!" Don yelled back. David walked into the interrogation room and pulled Don out of there.

"Don, you need to calm down," David said once they were out of the interrogation room. Don was fuming.

"He did this, David!" Don replied. "He took Charlie!"

"And we'll find him," David answered. "I promise you."

Five days missing…

Don splashed water on his face. He was in the FBI headquarters bathroom. He hadn't slept since Charlie went missing. The past few days, Don and his team had questioned every person who had ever been associated with Vivaldi. They searched their businesses, knocked down the doors of their homes. Charlie was nowhere to be found. And it really did seem like none of the men had any idea where Charlie was. Don was beginning to think that maybe Vivaldi didn't take Charlie after all. But then who did? Charlie didn't have any enemies. Don went back to his desk, scouring through old crime cases where Charlie consulted. Maybe they would give him some hint as to who could have taken Charlie.

Fourteen days missing…

"I don't want to go see a movie!" Amita screamed. Larry was attempting to ease Amita's nervousness these past weeks, but nothing seemed to work. When he suggested that she

go out to a movie to distract herself, she freaked. "Charlie is missing! My fiancé is gone. I can't just pretend like nothing's wrong."

"I know that, Amita." Larry said soothingly. "But you can't stay cooped up in his office the whole time."

Indeed, Amita hadn't left Charlie's office for several days now. Alan insisted Amita stay at the house, but she couldn't bring herself to go there. To see Charlie's things, to sleep in his bed. Amita started crying and collapsed on a sofa in Charlie's office.

"Where is he?" she said to no one in particular. Larry sat down next to her.

"Our young Charles will come back to us," he said.

"How do you know that, Larry?" Amita asked, tears in her eyes. "He's gone. And nobody knows where he is!"

Twenty days missing…

"This isn't working!" Don said. He scratched the scruffy beard growing on his chin, rummaging through stacks of papers. There had been no ransom demands, no phone calls from kidnappers. The 24 - 48 hours after someone is missing is the most crucial. It had been 20 days now. With most missing person cases, police officers would have already presumed the victim had either run away or was dead. Don couldn't bring himself to think of the latter. "If Vivaldi didn't take Charlie, then who did?"

"We've canvassed every area that we could think of. Charlie's 8x10 has been sent to every police station in California." Colby offered.

"Then let's send his photo to stations out of state!" Don exclaimed.

"We have, Don." David answered. "Border patrols, toll booths, hospitals, they've had his photograph for weeks now. No one has seen him."

"That's not good enough!" Don said. "We need to put more men on this case."

"We have a hundred man hours on this!" David answered. "We can't afford to spare any more men. Don…" David trailed off. He pulled his boss aside. "Don," he whispered. "I think it's time to face reality." Don glared at him with cold eyes.

"My brother is still out there," Don said. "I will find him. I will not give up!"  
Sixty-four days missing…

Don sat in the living room of the Eppes' home, looking at a picture of Charlie and Don as children. It was late and the television was on but he wasn't watching it. Alan walked in, looking tired. He put a plate of food in front of Don.

Don shrugged it away. "Not hungry."

Alan sighed and sat down. "You have to eat, son. And you need some sleep. You can't go on like this."

"Look who's talking," Don replied. They sat together in silence for a while, listening to the rain falling outside.

"Where's Amita?" Don asked, breaking the silence.

"Still at the university. She's sleeping at his office."

Don put his head in his hands, feeling helpless. Alan rubbed his son's back.

"I don't know what else to do, Dad." Don said into his hands. Alan could see Don was desperately trying to hold back emotion. "I've tried everything, looked everywhere. It's been two months and I still can't find him. I can't find my brother."

"It's going to be okay, Don" Alan said. "You'll find him."

Don looked up at his father, ignoring the burning in his eyes. "How can you be so sure?"

Alan shrugged sadly. "That's your job."

Don took a deep breath. He sat back and they both stared at the television. After a while, they both fell asleep.

Sixty-five days missing…

Five a.m. that morning, Don woke up in a startle. He was still on the living room couch. He had a blanket over him. His father must have gone up to bed. Don walked in a stumble, the blanket still over his shoulders, and opened the front door. The air still was damp from the morning dew and Don shivered a little as he grabbed the newspaper on the porch.

When he looked up, Don had to do a double take. A young man was standing in the driveway. He wore a grey wool cap on his head and he was dressed in a pair of dirty, baggy jeans and a stained shirt. His face was covered in bruises, he was pale, and his cheeks were sunken. At first, Don couldn't make out who it was. Then he looked into the young man's eyes. It was Charlie. Charlie stared back at Don, his eyes fuzzy and out of focus. He was a good ten pounds lighter than we was two months ago, and his clothes hung loosely on his body.

Don's throat went dry. "Charlie?" he asked hoarsely. Charlie didn't say anything. He just stared at the house, as if trying to remember a place from his childhood. Don yelled his dad's name twice inside the house before running to his brother. "Charlie! Where the hell have you been?"

Charlie eyes were glassy as he looked at his brother. "I don't know," he answered softly.

"It's okay, I'm here," Don said reassuringly, touching his brother's shoulders as if to make sure he was real. He put the blanket that was around him over Charlie and then took Charlie's face in his hands, examining the bruises on his brother's face. "Who did this to you? What happened?"

Charlie shook his head, as if in a daze. "I don't know," he repeated. At that moment, Alan ran outside. He stopped in his tracks when he saw his youngest son.

Don looked back at his father. "Dad, grab your keys. We need to get him to the hospital." Alan didn't ask questions. He ran inside and within seconds, was by Don and Charlie's sides. Don took the keys from Alan and ran to the car. Alan took Charlie by the hand and led him into the backseat. As soon as they were all in the car, Don took off.

"Charlie, where have you been?" Alan asked, sitting in the back with his son. Charlie just stared straight ahead. Alan touched the cap on Charlie's head. It was soaked. He took it off and found that Charlie's head was covered in blood. "My God, what happened?" Alan exclaimed.

Don looked back. "Dad, he's in shock." Don replied. He took a quick look at Charlie's head. "Put the cap back on and press against it to stop the bleeding. Is he cold?"

Alan felt Charlie's hands. "His hands are freezing," Alan answered nervously.

"Make sure the blanket is around him," Don said. Alan secured the blanket firmly around Charlie and started rubbing Charlie's hands with his own.

"It's okay, son. We're going to take you to the hospital," Alan assured.

Don tried to force himself to pay attention to the road, but he couldn't help looking back at Charlie. Don finally took out his cell phone and dialed David.

"Hello?" David answered.

"David, Charlie is with us." Don said. "He just showed up on our doorstep. We're taking him to L.A. General. We'll be there in 10. Meet me there."

Ten minutes later, nurses were leading Charlie into an examination room. Don asked Alan to call Amita and Larry and wait for the police officers in the lobby. Alan started to argue but he eventually complied. Don grabbed a dark-haired doctor in his late thirties who was standing in the hall.

"You, I'm Agent Don Eppes. FBI. I need you to come with me." The doctor followed Don into Charlie's room. The nurses were already taking off Charlie's hat and examining his head.

"What have we got?" the doctor asked.

"Head wound," nurse said. "Several hours old. The bleeding has stopped." She started taking off Charlie's clothes. They were soaking wet.

"Okay, bandage the wound and watch for infection." The doctor shone a light into Charlie's eyes. "What's his name?" the doctor asked Don.

"Charlie," Don answered.

"Charlie, I'm Dr. Snyder. How do you feel?" the doctor asked Charlie.

Don sneered at that. How the hell did he think Charlie was feeling? Charlie didn't answer so the doctor asked again.

"Um, feeling tired." Charlie answered, rubbing his eyes.

"Can you tell me where you are?"

"Hospital," Charlie mumbled. Dr. Snyder examined the bruise on Charlie's cheek. Don could see that Charlie also had a black eye and a split lip.

"Can you tell me how you got these bruises?"

Charlie shook his head no.

Dr. Snyder felt Charlie's neck. "Do you know what day it is?"

Charlie thought a moment and looked at Don wearily. Don gazed back at his brother, concerned. Charlie shook his head no.

Don bent down to look his brother in the eye. "Charlie, what's the last thing you remember?"

Charlie rubbed his head and then flinched when it hurt. "Driving to meet Amita."

"What about after that? Did someone stop you? Were you in an accident?" Don probed.

The doctor pushed Don back. "Agent Eppes, I'm going to need you to leave until I finish examining the patient."

Don stood his ground. "I'm his brother. He's been missing for 65 days! I'm staying here!"

Dr. Snyder put his hand on Don's shoulder forcefully, but said kindly, "I understand, but let me ask the questions right now."

Don took a deep breath and nodded. Dr. Snyder went back to examining Charlie. The nurse had taken Charlie's shirt off. There was a bruise on Charlie's stomach. He was very thin, thinner than Don had seen him in a while. Dr. Snyder waved his index finger back and forth in front of Charlie's eyes.

"Charlie, I'm going to need you to follow my finger." the doctor said. Charlie did. The nurse who was standing behind Charlie motioned for the doctor to come to her. Dr. Snyder walked behind Charlie. He looked down for a moment. "Go get some bandages and some swabs." He whispered to the nurse.

"What?" Don asked, confused. He went to stand behind Charlie. He gasped. Charlie's back was covered in long red slash marks. There were at least ten of them. Some were still red. It looked as if Charlie was whipped with a belt or some kind of a strap.

"God, Charlie." Don said in a whisper. He walked around and knelt down in front of his brother. "Charlie, tell me what happened? Who did this to you?"

Charlie just looked at him like a child looks at his mother. "I don't remember." Charlie answered. Don sighed and rubbed the side of Charlie's face tenderly.


	2. Chapter 2

"How's your brother doing?" Colby asked a tired-looking Don in the hospital hallway.

Don huffed, frustrated. "He doesn't remember a thing that happened to him."

"Amnesia?" Colby asked, concerned. Don shook his head.

"The doctor says Charlie's head wound is superficial. He thinks perhaps Charlie has blocked out the memory of what happened to him."

Colby nodded sympathetically. "We've seen it before. Trauma victims with memory loss. Maybe he just needs some rest. The memories could come in time."

"I don't want to wait that long," Don replied. "I want to find out who did this to my brother and make him pay!" Don rubbed his eyes, trying to contemplate a solution. "Okay, I've sent the clothes Charlie was wearing down to the lab. They aren't his. So someone had to have given them to him."

"We can trace the manufacturer," Colby said. "See which stores in the area sell the brand. Maybe we'll get lucky and we'll find a fingerprint."

Don nodded. "Another thing: Charlie was soaking wet when he was on our doorstep this morning. But it wasn't raining when I woke up. It was raining last night. That means Charlie was either out on our doorstep since last night or he was walking in the rain before then."

Colby thought a moment. "We'll check all the places in your neighborhood. Maybe he was held somewhere close, close enough to walk. If he was driven to the house, he would have been dry by the morning."

"I'm gonna get back in there," Don said, looking towards Charlie's hospital room. "Thanks, Colby."

Colby grinned. "We'll figure this out. I'm glad Charlie's all right."

Don went back in Charlie's room. Amita and Alan were there sitting on either side of Charlie. Charlie had some color in his face and his cuts were cleaned up. His eye was purple and there still was a bruise on his cheek, but it was subsiding. He was sitting up in bed, a tray of food in front of him.

"What about my classes?" he asked Amita.

Amita rubbed his arm. "Larry has been teaching your classes since you've been gone."

Charlie snickered. "I bet my students were thrilled about that."

Amita smiled. "They've actually taken quite a shine to him." Charlie nodded and looked over at Don. Don attempted a smile.

"So when am I getting out of here?" Charlie asked Don.

"Well, the doctors said you can go home when you're ready…"

"Good," Charlie answered, starting to get out of bed. "I'm ready now." Alan pushed him back.

"Woh, not so fast, son." Alan said. "Let's wait until the doctors clear you. Plus you need to eat your dinner first." Charlie made a face.

"I'm not hungry." Charlie answered. Alan started to urge him on, but Charlie waved him off abruptly. "Dad, I'm not hungry! I just want to go home."

Don stepped in. "I'll go get the doctor and see when he can discharge you," he offered. Charlie laid back, huffing.

That evening, Charlie and the family were back in the Eppes home. Alan offered to help him in but Charlie waved him off. "I'm fine. I'm not a baby," he replied. Alan didn't push him. Amita looked a little unnerved. Charlie noticed and took her hand. "I'm a little tired. I think I'm going to go to bed," Charlie said.

Amita nodded. "Okay, I'll be up in a bit." Charlie scratched his head, looking around at the house. Before he walked upstairs, Don stopped him.

"Charlie, when you're feeling better, I need you to come down to the office and make a statement," Don said.

Charlie huffed, rubbing his eyes. "Why? I can't remember anything."

"I know, Charlie," Don urged. "But maybe once we start talking, some memories will come back. It's worth a try." Charlie looked apprehensive but agreed.

The next morning, Don was at the office going over leads with Colby and David.

"We got the results back from the lab," David told Don. "The sweat pants Charlie was wearing were pretty worn. They couldn't find a label anywhere. But it looks like the hat and shirt are made by Old Navy."

"That doesn't really narrow it down," Colby answered. "There are Old Navy's at every mall in California."

"Maybe," Don said, "But that tends to be a place where mostly teenagers shop. That could be a lead."

"Right," David answered. "And we found something else. The shirt has been discontinued for several years now. Looks like they actually stopped making it in 1999."

"Over ten years ago?" Don exclaimed. David nodded. "Okay, we'll come to back to that. Colby, did you find anything?"

"We went door to door, checking out neighboring developments," Colby replied. "One suspicious lead. There is a guy who lives five blocks from Charlie's who was charged with burglary and assault three years ago. Shawn Miller. He didn't answer his door and he didn't show up for work the past couple of days."

"Okay, find him," Don said, "And bring him here."

Meanwhile, Charlie was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. From the bright sun radiating through the window curtain, he could tell it was late morning. Charlie squinted, throwing the covers over his face. For some reason, the sun had been really bothering him lately. His eyes kept burning whenever he was outside. He didn't want to get up and confront the day. He didn't want to go to Don's office and be interviewed. He just wanted to go back to sleep. The pillow was so comfortable and he didn't want to think about what may have happened to him. "Two months!" Charlie thought to himself. He had been gone two months, and he couldn't remember any of it. From all his bruises, it couldn't have been good. Maybe it was better he didn't remember. Charlie took a deep breath and forced himself to get out of bed.

When Charlie went downstairs, he found Amita and Alan sitting at the kitchen table. They both immediately jumped up when they saw Charlie.

"Hey son," Alan said cheerfully. "Did you sleep well? Do you want some breakfast? Or I guess I should say lunch. It's 11:00." Charlie waved him off.

"I'm not hungry," Charlie answered. Alan looked concerned.

"You need to eat something, Charlie," Alan insisted. "The doctor said you're malnourished, and you need to keep drinking water so you're not dehydrated." Charlie closed his eyes, trying not to get frustrated.

"Alright, I'll have some toast," Charlie offered. Alan nodded and went to work in the kitchen. Charlie sat down at the kitchen table next to Amita.

"Why are you here? Don't you have a class?" Charlie asked her.

Amita shrugged. "I got Jennie to cover my classes this week."

"Why?" Charlie asked, surprised.

Amita rubbed his arm. "It's okay. I want to be here with you."

Charlie shook his head. "I'm fine. I'm going back to CalSci tomorrow anyways."

"Oh no, you're not," Alan said, putting a plate in front of Charlie. Charlie noticed that it not only had toast on it, but eggs and bacon and fruit as well. "You need to rest."

"Why? I told you I'm fine." Charlie answered. "I need to get back to my students, plus Don is going to need me for cases soon."

"Don needs you to get better first." Amita said. "Are you going to go to his office today for the interview?" Charlie didn't answer.


	3. Chapter 3

Don sat at his desk, rummaging through files of convicted criminals and past cases. He wasn't making any headway regarding Charlie's case. Those who may have had a grudge against the department or Charlie were already in prison and those who weren't had alibis. He really needed to interview Charlie about what happened. But he didn't want to push his brother. Charlie had just gotten back from the hospital yesterday. Don's thoughts were interrupted as David and Colby walked into his office.

"Don," David called. Don stood up.

"Did you find Shawn Miller?" Don asked. Colby walked over to the desk.

"He was hiding out at an old girlfriend's place," Colby answered. "We have him in interrogation room 1."

"I'll talk to him," Don said quickly as he headed to the interrogation room.

Shawn Miller sat at the table, scratching the beard that was forming on his face. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days and the clothes he wore were wrinkled. He looked very nervous. Don slammed the door behind him. Shawn jumped in his seat.

"Shawn Miller," Don said, looking at his file in his hands. "Three counts of burglary, one count of assault. Forming quite a rap sheet, aren't you?"

Shawn shook his head. "That was years ago, man. I don't do that stuff anymore."

"No, it looks like you've moved on to another crime." Don looked him straight in the eyes. "Kidnapping."

"What?" Shawn asked, looking confused. "I'm no kidnapper!"

"Then tell me, where were you on March 13th?" Don asked.

"How the hell should I remember? That was like two months ago!" Shawn answered.

Don looked at the file again. "Your boss says you weren't at work that day. He also says you haven't showed up at work this past week."

"Missing work's a crime now?" Shawn said smugly.

"No, but kidnapping is!" Don exclaimed.

"I didn't kidnap anybody!" Shawn answered.

"Then you won't mind if we search your apartment and your girlfriend's?" Don said. Shawn suddenly started fidgeting.

"You can't do that," he mumbled.

Don stood up. "We sure as hell can! And we're putting you in a line-up."

Shawn rubbed his fingers through his hair. "Look man, this is nuts. I didn't do anything." Shawn said.

Don walked to the door with the file. "Then you have nothing to hide." Don said, leaving the room.

David and Colby were waiting outside.

"Search his house and his girlfriend's," Don ordered.

"We need a warrant…" David started to say.

"Then go get one!" Don answered.

"With what?" David asked. "We have nothing on this guy."

Don huffed, frustrated. "He has a prior record," Don answered.

"Of burglary, not kidnapping," Colby replied. "There's no evidence this guy kidnapped Charlie."

"Not yet," Don affirmed. "But he's hiding something. We can hold him for 24 hours. I'll call Charlie. Maybe he'll recognize this guy. Meanwhile, get me that search warrant."

That evening, Don came over to the Eppes house for dinner. Charlie didn't eat much. Amita attempted some conversation, but Charlie still seemed bummed about not returning to work. He was also being quite testy with his father. Alan kindly ignored it and went up to bed after dinner. Don, meanwhile, tried to coach Charlie into coming into the office tomorrow.

"We're going to search his place tomorrow," Don told Charlie. "All we need you to do is come in and see if you can identify him from a line-up."

"How?" Charlie asked. "I don't remember what happened or who took me."

"I know," Don said. "But maybe seeing this guy will jog your memory. We really need you to come down. Otherwise, we'll have to let this guy back out on the street. Plus, we really need to get your statement on record, whatever you remember." Charlie wrung his hands, stalling.

"Okay, I guess I have nothing better to do," Charlie offered. Don gave him a pat on his shoulder.

"Great. Bright and early then." Don said. Charlie rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen. Amita grinned at Don.

"I'll make sure he gets there," she said.

The next morning, Amita lay next to Charlie in their bed, rubbing his back tenderly. She was so happy he was back. She felt like she was going out of her mind this past month, not knowing where he was. His bruises were starting to fade, but she knew he still needed time to heal. All she could do was be patient with him and try to get him to relax. Her alarm clock rang. Charlie mumbled in his sleep. She turned it off and got up to take a shower and get ready for work. When Amita came back in the room to wake up Charlie, he was tossing and turning in the bed, talking in his sleep.

"No," Charlie whined. "I'm not Daniel. I'm not Daniel." Amita, concerned, went over and tried to stir him.

"Charlie?" she said, shaking his shoulder. Charlie tossed and turned more.

"No! I'm not Daniel! No!" he screamed in his sleep. Amita pushed him harder.

"Charlie, wake up!" She yelled. Charlie suddenly jumped out of bed, grabbing her arm hard.

"No!" he screamed, squeezing her arm.

"It's okay." Amita said, trying to pry his fingers loose. "It's just a bad dream."

Charlie's eyes darted around the room and he finally let her go. "Where am I?" he asked, delirious. Amita came over to him, rubbing her wrist where he grabbed her.

"It's okay. You're home, Charlie." She said. Charlie looked at her, alarmed.

"What did you call me?" he asked sheepishly. Amita just looked at him.

"Charlie," she said. Charlie shook his head and blinked his eyes several times. He seemed to calm down.

"Right," he said to himself. He looked at her and then her wrist. "Oh God, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed. He came over to examine her wrist. She waved him off.

"It's okay. I'm fine," she answered. "Are you okay?" Charlie said yes, shaking it off.

"Who's Daniel?" she asked. Charlie tried to think, but the details of his dream were gone.

"I don't know," he answered.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, are you alright?" Don asked Charlie. His brother had just walked into the FBI headquarters and he was looking a little ragged.

"I'm fine," Charlie said. "Let's do this."

"Okay," Don replied, showing his brother the way into a viewing area. A large mirror separated them from another room where several men stood against a line-up wall. Shawn Miller was among them.

"Now, the men in that room can't see you…" Don began. Charlie shrugged him off.

"Yeah, yeah, I know how it works." Charlie answered. Don grinned and got out of his way. Charlie looked closely at each of the men. He closed his eyes when he got to the end.

"I don't recognize any of them," he said.

"Are you sure?" Don asked. "Take a good look."

Charlie shook his head. "I'm sorry. They don't look familiar."

Don sighed. "Okay, I'll meet you back in my office."

Charlie walked out. Don hit a button next to the mirror. "You can all go," he said reluctantly.

He swore when he saw Shawn Miller on the other side of the mirror with a big smile on his face.

Charlie sat across from Don's desk. He took a quick glance at the files on the desk, but stopped when his brother came into the office.

"Sorry I couldn't ID anybody," Charlie said again.

"It's okay, Chuck." Don told him. Charlie looked up suddenly.

"What did you call me?" Charlie asked.

"Chuck," Don answered, confused.

Charlie looked at the ground for a moment before shaking it off. "Oh, okay. So what now?"

Don sat down behind his desk. "Well I need to ask you a few questions. We're not getting very far in the investigation. Maybe you can shed some light." Charlie began to protest, but Don encouraged him.

"Just humor me: what is the last thing you remember about that night?" Don asked. Charlie took a deep breath.

"I was driving to Amita's," he said.

"Did you stop at a pizza place?" Don asked.

Charlie shook his head. "No, I was going to go to the restaurant across the street from CalSci."

"Okay, so you're driving. Then what?" Don asked.

Charlie closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "Nothing."

Don leaned forward. "Your car was found on the side of the road, about halfway to CalSci. The back fender was dented. Were you in a car accident?"

Charlie saw a memory flash before his eyes. "Yes!" he answered. "I was at the stop light. A car rear-ended me."

"Can you remember what type of car it was?" Don asked. Charlie closed his eyes again.

"Black SUV," he said.

That's good!" Don answered. "What then?"

"Um, I pulled the car over," Charlie replied. "And…" Charlie tried to think but his mind was blank. "Nothing. It's blank."

Don sighed. "Okay, what is the next thing you remember?"

Charlie thought a moment. "Walking in the rain."

"What else?" Don urged. Charlie shut his eyes.

"It's cold and dark…My head hurts."

"Do you recognize any street signs?" Don asked. He could tell Charlie was really trying. Charlie opened his eyes and stared at his brother.

"I'm sorry," he said finally.

Don sighed and stood up. "It's okay, Charlie. You did well." He came around to his brother. Charlie got up out of his seat and grabbed his things.

"If you remember anything, just let me know." Don said. Charlie nodded and turned to walk out. Don gave Charlie a brotherly pat on his head. Out of nowhere, Charlie whipped his head around and backed up against the door.

"Don't touch me!" Charlie yelled. He had a frightened look on his face.

"I'm sorry," Don said, putting his hands out. He stared at his brother, who was breathing hard. "Are you okay?" Don asked.

Charlie stared back at his brother for a moment, and then blinked. "I'm sorry," he answered. "I don't know why I did that."

Don took a deep breath. "It's okay." He put his hand lightly on his brother's arm.

Charlie nodded, in shock over his reaction. "I'll see you at home." And he walked out. Don stood at the door for a moment, concerned about his brother. Colby interrupted his thoughts.

"How did the line-up go?" Colby asked.

"Charlie couldn't ID Shawn." Don answered. "But he remembered that the car that hit him was a black SUV."

Colby snorted. "That really narrows it down," he said sarcastically.

Don looked at him hard. "It's a start. See if Shawn Willow has a…"

"Don!" David interrupted, approaching Don and Colby. "It's not Shawn Willow."

"How can you be sure?" Colby asked.

"Because he was in Fresno breaking into a store," David answered. "We searched his girlfriend's place and found stolen jewelry. When we grilled his girlfriend, she confessed. The two of them were robbing a jewelry store last Tuesday."

"That's why he was so nervous," Don said to himself.

"That doesn't necessarily mean the man didn't kidnap Charlie," Colby commented.

"He has no motive," Don answered, frustrated. "I jumped on the first guy we suspected and it's a dead end."

"Look on the bright side," David said cheerfully. "We solved a robbery." Don didn't look impressed.

"Colby, check out any criminals in California who own a black SUV." Don ordered. "Cross-list those with any past cases of Charlie's or those with past kidnapping records." Colby nodded and went off to work. Don went back into his office and crashed behind his desk.


	5. Chapter 5

Charlie sat in his car in his driveway. It was evening now. He had been driving around most of the day, trying to clear his head. He was confused and frustrated. Why had he reacted like

that at Don's office? For a moment, he had a vision of a man's hand grabbing at his hair and a wave of terror overtook him. In the next moment, the vision was gone and he was back in

Don's office. He tried to remember more, but just like that the memory was gone. "I just want this to be over," Charlie said to himself.

Charlie got out of his car and went inside. Amita and Alan were sitting in the living room. Amita jumped up when she saw him.

"Hey, there you are," Amita said, kissing his cheek. "How did it go?"

Charlie shrugged. "I couldn't ID the guy."

Alan stood up. "That's okay. Maybe it wasn't the man who took you." Alan limped past the couch.

"You alright, Alan?" Amita asked. Alan grinned.

"Oh, yeah," Alan answered. "Just a leg cramp."

Charlie suddenly had a memory flash before his eyes. An older man limping back to a car. A cane. Sudden blackness. Charlie shook his head and walked towards the kitchen. He stopped in

the dining room, looking at a picture of him, Don, and Alan standing on the porch of the house when they were young. Don had a baseball uniform on. More visions started flashing. A baseball mitt. A bat with blood on it. Charlie rubbed his head and eyes, trying to make the visions stop.

"Charlie?" he heard a woman call. But he couldn't focus. White hair. A hard chair. A kid's bedroom. The visions wouldn't stop. "Son, what's wrong?" he heard a man call. Now Charlie's ears

were ringing. "Son! You're my son!" a man screamed in his ear. It got louder and louder. Charlie covered his ears and screamed "Stop!" Alan ran over to him and put his hand on the back

of Charlie head.

"Son, what's wrong?" Charlie hit his hand away and backed up in the living room.

"No, I'm not your son!" Charlie screamed. He was delirious. Memories kept flashing.

"Charlie," Amita started to say.

Charlie kept backing up until his back hit a wall. "Don't touch me!" he answered back. Amita and Alan stopped in their tracks. They just stood staring at Charlie. Charlie leaned down against the wall, sitting down. "I'm not your son," he mumbled to himself. After a minute, he stopped, just looking at the floor. Amita finally came over to him, tears in her eyes.

"Charlie," Amita asked. "What happened?" Charlie looked up at her, his eyes sober and clear.

"I remember," he answered. "I remember everything."


	6. Chapter 6

"It was nighttime," Charlie started. "And I was driving to meet Amita at CalSci."

Charlie was sitting across from David at FBI headquarters in an interrogation room. David insisted that they go someplace more comfortable, but Charlie said he was fine with this room. He knew that Don was watching from the other side of the two-way mirror. Don asked Charlie before the interview started if he wanted him to sit out, and Charlie had said yes. He didn't know why; he just felt anxious talking about his experiences in front of Don. Don, meanwhile, was biting his fingernail on the other side, waiting for Charlie to tell David what happened. He so wanted to be in there, but he knew he had to respect Charlie's wishes. Simultaneously, Charlie and Don took a deep breath.

"The roads were pretty empty." Charlie continued. "A black SUV was behind me for a while, but it wasn't doing anything suspicious so I didn't think anything of it. I stopped at a red light and the SUV rear-ended me hard. So I pulled over and got out of the car to look at the damage. An elderly man got out of the car."

"What did he look like?" David asked.

"He had white hair," Charlie described. "And he was muscular, like he had been an athlete when he was young." David scribbled on his pad as Charlie talked. "He was around my dad's age, and he wore the same knitted sweater my dad likes to wear." Charlie rubbed his fingers through his hair.

"He was really nice and apologetic when he got out," Charlie continued. "But he was anxious and sweating. He said he had to go back to his car to get his insurance. I waited and I saw him open up the back door of the van." Charlie sighed. "And then he fell."

"He fell?" David asked.

"Yea, he went down on one knee, and his arms were in the car but it looked like he couldn't pull himself up." Charlie grinned bitterly. "I was so stupid. I went over to help."

"That's what anybody would do," David answered.

"I know," Charlie replied a little loudly. "But I should have known it was a trap!" Charlie wrung his hands, frustrated. Don tensed up on the other side. He hated to see his brother blaming himself.

Charlie huffed. "Anyways, so I walked over to see if he was okay. He was facing away from me, and when I put my hand on his shoulder to help, he quickly swung around and hit me in the face with something hard. A cane, I think." Charlie blinked hard. "I passed out. I don't know for how long. The next thing I know, I'm handcuffed to a chair."

"What did the place look like?" David asked. Charlie snickered again.

"It was a kid's bedroom," Charlie answered. "I mean, it looked like Don's room when he was a teenager. It was weird."

"Can you remember any specifics?" David probed.

Charlie closed his eyes. Flashes of the place went through his mind. "Trophies on a dresser, a baseball bat, glove, and cap in the corner. Some posters of old rock bands: Aerosmith, Rolling Stones." Charlie opened his eyes. "It looked like a normal bedroom, except for one thing."

"What's that?" David asked.

"Behind me, there was a metal door." Charlie answered. "Like you'd find on a walk-in freezer. And there were no windows."

"That's good, Charlie," David encouraged. "Anything else? Was there a certain smell, a feel? A sound?" Charlie thought a moment.

"It smelled musty, and it was cold," Charlie answered. "I could hear cars driving faintly in the background but they were far away."

"That's good, Charlie," David said again. He wrote down everything Charlie said. Charlie shook his head.

"But when I screamed, no one heard me. At least I don't think they did. No one ever came." Charlie said dryly.

"What happened after you woke up?" David asked.

Charlie took a deep breath. "I was alone. And I was dressed in some old sweats and a t-shirt. They weren't mine. He must have taken my clothes and dressed me in those." Charlie closed his eyes, thinking back. "I tried to get free but the handcuffs were too tight. And there was rope tied around my legs. After a few minutes, he came back in." Charlie paused, fidgeting. Don fidgeted too behind the mirror.

"It's okay, Charlie," David ensured. "Take your time." Charlie tapped his fingers nervously on the table.

"He didn't look like the same person," Charlie answered. "He was angry and his eyes were weird. Said that this was the last time I would run away from him." Charlie shook his head. "He thought I was his son."

"His son?" David asked. Charlie nodded.

"Yeah, he kept calling me Daniel," Charlie replied. "Or son. When I told him I wasn't, he'd get pissed. He'd yell and say that I was ungrateful and bad." Charlie shook his head, closing his eyes. "I tried to get him to understand, but it didn't matter." Charlie looked up at the ceiling. "Sometimes I'd just scream right back, 'I'm Charlie, you crazy psycho!' That's when he'd hit me."

"Hit you?" David asked. Charlie shrugged it off.

"Yeah, punch me." Charlie answered. Don clenched his fists.

"Did he ever tell you his name?" David asked. Charlie shook his head no.

"What else do you remember about him?" David asked.

Charlie wrung his hands together. "I remember that he used to rub the back of my head, stroking it like a father does. If I pulled away from him, he'd get angry. He'd grab my hair and yell at me."

"What would he yell?" David probed.

"Uh, that if I didn't behave, I would regret it. That he'd never let me go again," Charlie said quietly. He started to fidget again. "That he'd keep me tied up there so I'd never leave him." Charlie looked at the ground. "I didn't think I'd ever get out of there."

Don paced behind the mirror. It took every fiber in his body not to go in that room and comfort his brother.

"Did he keep you tied up all the time?" David asked. Charlie nodded angrily.

"Most of the time, yeah. He'd bring me one meal a day." Charlie said. "I would have to beg him for something to drink. It went on like that for weeks." Charlie fidgeted. "I couldn't stand being in that small room, staring at that wall and those stupid Aerosmith posters."

"Was it just him?" David asked. Charlie looked up at David, a scared expression on his face.

"What is it?" David asked, concerned. Charlie looked away, memories flashing again.

"No," Charlie finally said. "I thought it was only him. So I tried to coerce him into untying me, hoping to overpower him when he did. But every time I tried, he'd just ignore me and then leave me alone in there. But one day, it worked." Charlie looked at David. "I convinced him that I wanted to stay there with him. That I was his son and that I'd be good. So he bent down, took a key out of his pocket, and took off the handcuffs. He started to untie the ropes around my legs, and I kicked him. He fell back." Charlie clenched his fists as he spoke. "I pulled off the rest of the ropes and ran, pushing open the metal door. I ran through an empty basement, which led to some stairs."

"So the room was in a basement?" David interjected. Charlie nodded vigorously.

"Yes, yes I remember it was." Charlie answered.

"Okay, continue." David said. Charlie took a second and closed his eyes.

"I could hear him behind me." Charlie's hands started to shake. "I remember running up the stairs, thinking if I just reached the top, I'd be home free." Charlie shut his eyes tighter. "I could see the light, and I was almost there. But when I opened the door, **he **was there."

"He who?" David asked.

"Another man," Charlie answered. "He punched me and I fell back. Hit my head on the bottom step." Charlie started breathing hard, lost in the memory.

Don reached for the door, wanting to stop the interview. David seemed to read his mind because he said to Charlie, "Maybe we should take a break."

Charlie adamantly refused. "No, no, I'm okay." Charlie answered, composing himself. David seemed a little unsure, but he agreed.

"Okay, what happened next?" David asked. Charlie closed his eyes again.

"My head was spinning and I was being dragged through the basement. I could hear two men yelling. When I opened my eyes, I saw the older man. He was sporting a black eye and he was arguing with the other man."

"What did the other man look like?" David asked.

"He was Don's age," Charlie said. "Dark hair, business suit on." Charlie gritted his teeth. "Dark, cold eyes." Charlie thought a moment. "His name was Max."

"How do you know that?" David asked.

"Because the old man called him that. Said, 'Max, I've got this under control.' But Max told the old man to go upstairs."

"What happened then?" David asked. Charlie tapped his fingers on the table again anxiously.

"The old man left and Max just stared at me with this cold expression on his face. I was on the ground, and he was hovering over me. He said, 'You think you're a tough guy, hitting an old man? You should learn to respect your elders.' I told him I was sorry, to please let me go." Charlie shook his head. "He just laughed at me. 'Your father is too soft on you,' Max answered. I yelled at him that the man wasn't my father, but he grabbed me roughly by the hair and punched me hard. Then he kicked me in the stomach and I doubled over." Charlie started to squirm uncomfortably.

"Charlie, are you sure you don't want to take a break?" David asked. Charlie waved him off, but he kept his eyes closed.

"He, uh, took off his belt," Charlie said. "And he started hitting me with it, over and over. He was so angry; I didn't think he'd ever stop."

Don clenched his fists. "That son of bitch," Don said to no one.

Charlie opened his eyes. They were blank and sober. "After that, he turned me over and put his face right in mine. And he said, 'If you ever try to escape again, I will kill you.' And I believed him."


	7. Chapter 7

"I never saw Max again after that," Charlie said. "He tied me back to the chair and left. I don't know if he stayed upstairs or not."

"What happened after that?" David asked. Charlie shrugged.

"Life as usual. The old man would come in to feed me and then leave." Charlie rubbed his eyes, pausing.

"How did you end up getting away?" David finally asked. Charlie looked at the table for a moment.

"I couldn't take it anymore," Charlie answered. "Just sitting in that chair day in and day out, tied up, staring at that wall." Charlie looked back up at David. "I would try to think of being home, of Amita and Don and my students. But it all just went into a blur. Even the numbers." Charlie shook his head, his eyes watering. "Whenever things were going bad, the numbers and equations were always there to distract me. But when I was in that room and I'd try to think about math, I couldn't. The numbers were gone."

Don sighed behind the mirror. He knew that math was always a coping tool for his brother. When their mother got sick, Charlie would spend hours in his basement trying to solve the greatest mysteries in math. It was a welcomed distraction for him. Without that, he just wasn't Charlie. Don couldn't imagine how it must have felt to lose that.

Charlie wiped his eyes. "I've been arguing with my dad and Amita that I should be back teaching, but truthfully, I've never been so afraid of math in my life." Charlie looked up at David. "What if it's gone? What if I've forgotten it all?"

"Charlie, I wouldn't worry…" David started.

"I have to worry about this!" Charlie interjected, pushing the chair out from under him and standing up. "This is who I am. I'm a mathematician! And I can't remember anything! I tried to do the P vs. NP equation yesterday, and my mind went totally blank!"

"You've just been through a trauma," David answered. "It's natural for you…"

"No, it's not natural for me to forget math," Charlie interrupted. "Without math, I'm nothing!"

"We're getting off the subject," David replied, trying to calm Charlie down. "Let's go back and talk about how you escaped."

"I'm trying to explain it," Charlie said, pacing. "I was stuck there, 24/7, tied to a chair with nothing to think about, nothing to live for." Tears started to form in Charlie's eyes. He stared at the ground. "I couldn't live like that anymore." Silence filled the room. David stood up.

"What did you do, Charlie?" David asked softly.

Charlie stopped pacing and backed up into a corner of the room. "I was afraid if I tried to break out again, Max would kill me. And I knew I couldn't stay in that room any longer." Charlie paused. "So I pushed the chair against a wall…and I slammed my head back against it." Charlie looked at his feet. "And then I did it again. And again."

Don stared at his brother through the mirror. His eyes started to water. His brother had tried to kill himself.

David walked over to Charlie slowly. Charlie wouldn't look at him.

"What happened then?" David asked. Charlie sighed.

"I blacked out. When I came to, the old man was hovering over me. I was no longer tied up and he had put something on my head. A wool cap, I think. He was pressing it against my head. His hands were red with blood. I could see the baseball bat on the floor a few inches away. Everything was blurry. I sat up and moaned. He was saying something to me. I couldn't hear him, but I could see his lips. He was calling me 'son'." Charlie looked away, ashamed. "I grabbed the bat and I hit him."

David waited a moment before encouraging Charlie to continue. Charlie took a deep breath.

"The old man fell back and I took the bat and ran out of the room. I went up the stairs and opened the door, and held the bat at the ready for Max." Charlie looked at David. "But he wasn't there. So I ran out of the house."

"What did the rest of the house look like?" David asked.

Charlie shook his head. "I don't know; my vision was still blurry. I think there was a small kitchen and a couch somewhere, but I'm not sure."

"Okay, what else?" David continued. Charlie closed his eyes.

"I just ran. I saw houses around me, but it was so dark. And it was raining. I didn't know which way to go or where I was. But after a while, I came to the end of a street and it said 'Pasadena Acres'.

"Pasadena Acres," Don repeated to himself. That was the housing development ten blocks from Charlie's development.

"I started walking," Charlie said. "It was so cold, but I finally found it: my house. I stood outside my house and I just stared at it." Charlie sighed. "And then my mind went blank. And I seemed to forget everything." Charlie took a deep breath. He looked back up at David. "Did that help?" David sighed and put his hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"Yes, it did, Charlie." David answered. "Thank you."

Don ran out of the room and back into the main office. Colby was waiting for him with some other officers. .

"Charlie was taken by an elderly man and a business man in his thirties whose name is Max." Don said to them. "He was kept in a basement in a house in Pasadena Acres."

Colby nodded. "I'll pull up the records for the owners of the houses in that development. See if there is anyone matches those descriptions."

"Check if any owners own a black SUV." Don ordered. David walked out of the interrogation room.

"We're already on it," Don told David. "Thank you for doing the interview." David nodded.

"We'll find these guys," David answered.

Charlie sat in the interrogation room, staring at the table. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. Don came in. The brothers looked at each other.

"Did I do okay?" Charlie asked sheepishly. Don's heart ached. He pulled a chair around and sat next to Charlie.

"You did great, Charlie," Don encouraged. He put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "We are going to find these men. I promise you." Charlie looked away for a moment.

"I feel bad," Charlie finally said.

"Why?" Don asked, his hand still on his brother's shoulder.

"I hit that old man with a bat," Charlie answered, ashamed. "What if I killed him?"

Don shook his head adamantly. "That man kidnapped you and kept you locked up in a room for over two months. You were just defending yourself." Charlie started to protest but Don looked his brother in his eyes.

"You did what you had to do," Don said. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that." Don took a deep breath. "And I'm sorry we didn't find you sooner. I'm sorry you started to lose hope." Charlie looked away, ashamed.

"I'm sorry…" he started. Don took him by the shoulders.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Don told him. "What matters is you're back now." Don paused a second, looking at his brother. He started to get emotional but managed to push it back down. David interrupted them.

"Don," he called. "We need you." Don nodded and stood up.

"I'll have somebody drive you home," Don started to say. Charlie stood up.

"It's okay. Amita said she'd pick me up . I'll give her a call," Charlie said.

"Okay," Don answered. "I'll call you when it's over." Charlie nodded and started to walk out.

"Charlie?" Don called after him. Charlie looked back.

"I love you, bro." Don said. Charlie smiled.

"I love you, too."


	8. Chapter 8

"What did you find?" Don asked David. David brought up a picture of an elderly man on his computer.

"Thomas Raymond," David stated. "Lives at 452 Country Road in the Pasadena Acres development. Owns a black SUV."

"Get SWAT together," Don ordered. "We're going over there now."

Twenty minutes later, Don, David, and an entire SWAT team armed and ready were outside Thomas Raymond's house. The black SUV was in the driveway. Don held his fingers up and counted down from three. On the count of one, the team charged through the front door and stormed the house. There was a small kitchen to the left and a tiny living room with a couch and an old television to the right. A bat with blood on the tip was on the floor near the door. No one was there. Don followed some SWAT members down the steps and into the basement. They found the room where Charlie was kept. There was blood on the wall and on the floor and a broken chair on the ground. It looked just as Charlie described it.

"Clear," SWAT members shouted to one another. David came down the steps.

"There's no one here," David answered. Don cursed.

"Check the emergency rooms in the area. See if Thomas Raymond or a John Doe matching his description had come in with a head wound. And issue a warrant for his arrest."

Back at headquarters, Colby was hard at work on the computer.

"What have you got?" Don asked as he arrived.

"Thomas Raymond was a high school football coach in Oregon until he was fired in 2000," Colby said. He brought up the picture of Thomas Raymond again.

"Why was he fired?" Don asked.

"He had a nervous breakdown," Colby answered. "According to reports, his son Daniel went missing in 1997. He was 16 and has never been found." Colby brought up a picture of Daniel Raymond. He had dark curly hair, just like Charlie's.

"Daniel," Don repeated. "This is who Raymond thought Charlie was."

Colby nodded. "Thomas Raymond was already suspecting of physically abusing his son so Oregon police suspected foul play. They investigated Thomas but could find no evidence that he killed his son. They eventually ruled it a runaway. According to the high school, Raymond went crazy. Accused several faculty members of taking his son or hiding him. The school fired Raymond and he moved to Texas ten years ago."

"What's he doing here?" Don asked. Colby looked at the file.

"It looks like Thomas Raymond has moved around quite a bit. He lived in New Mexico in 2005, Wisconsin in 2007, and just moved to California last year. He bought the house where Charlie was kept." Don thought a moment.

"I want you to check old missing person cases or homicides during the times Thomas Raymond was in these states. Maybe Charlie wasn't the first person he had mistaken for his son."

David walked in.

"Well?" Don asked.

"The police departments and border patrol are on high alert for Thomas Raymond," David reported. "So far, no hospitals have seen him."

"Keep checking," Don replied. "I'm going to call Charlie and see if…"

"He's still here," Colby said.

"What, he didn't go home?" Don asked. Colby shook his head.

"No, he stayed after you left," Colby answered, pointing to a cubicle in a corner. Don could see Charlie's curly hair sticking out from under it. "He's already ID'ed Thomas Raymond as the old man who took him. I have him looking at mug shots of men matching his description of Max."

Don approached Charlie. He was looking at mug books.

"Hey," Don said. Charlie stopped and looked up.

"Hey," Charlie answered back. "So?"

"We found the house where you were kept," Don said. Charlie fidgeted a little. "But the man wasn't there. We're looking for him. Colby said you've already ID'ed Thomas Raymond as the man who took you?"

Charlie nodded. "Colby said his son ran away?"

Don sat down. "Yeah, that's what the police believed. Any luck on Max?"

Charlie shook his head no. "I don't see him in these."

"Well, keep looking," Don encouraged.

A few days later, Don and his team were making some headway on Thomas Raymond's past. "I've spoken with local and federal police," Colby told Don. "You were right. This isn't the first time Thomas Raymond has kidnapped someone. Reports say that Alexander Woodland of New Mexico went missing in Spring of 2006. He was found murdered three weeks later at the bottom of a lake."

"The same time Raymond lived there," Don said. "Any suspects?"

Colby shook his head. "Cold case."

"I found another open case in Wisconsin," David added. "A 26 year old doctoral student named Kenny Freedman went missing in 2009. He was never found but police suspected foul play." David brought up a picture of Kenny Freedman. Black curly hair, youthful face. "He looks an awful lot like Daniel Raymond," David commented. "And your brother, for that matter."

Don huffed angrily. "So Thomas Raymond doesn't just kidnap his victims. He kills them too." Don clenched his fist. If Charlie had stayed there any longer, he could have been killed.

"What about this Max person?" Don asked. "Any leads?" David and Colby shook their heads no.

"Dammit, these two men couldn't have vanished!" Don yelled. "Charlie hit the old man with a baseball bat. He needed to go somewhere for medical attention!" Don was interrupted by a female FBI officer.

"Sir, we've found him," she called to him. Don immediately went over.

"Who? Thomas Raymond?" he asked. She nodded.

"Well, bring him here for questioning!" Don ordered.

"That's not possible, sir," she answered.

"Why not?" Don asked, confused.

"Because he's dead," she said.


	9. Chapter 9

Don stood in an alleyway where the body of Thomas Raymond was lying. The man's head was covered in blood. A coroner stood over the body.

"How long has he been dead?" Don asked the coroner.

"I'd say a day or two," the coroner replied. "Right now, it looks like a blow to the head was the cause of death. I'll know more when I open him up." Don huffed. He wasn't looking forward to telling Charlie that he may have killed his kidnapper.

"He's dead?" Charlie exclaimed. Don had just told him the news at their house. In hindsight, he probably should have waited until Amita or their father was home for some moral support. Charlie shook his head, looking completely overwhelmed. "I killed him! I killed a man."

Don tried to comfort him. "Charlie…"

"Am I going to go to jail?" Charlie interrupted. He started mumbling and pacing. "I didn't mean to kill him. I swear I didn't!" Don got Charlie to sit down.

"Chuck, I know that," Don said. "Listen, you're not going to jail. It was self-defense. Any judge will see that."

"But it wasn't," Charlie insisted. He started to tear up. "Yes, he kidnapped me and sometimes treated me bad. But at that moment, I wasn't in danger. He was helping me. He was trying to stop the bleeding…" Charlie trailed off, looking off into space. "He saved my life."

Don shook his head and grabbed Charlie. "You can't defend this guy! He was a horrible man who kept you tied to a chair for weeks and beat you up. Remember?"

"He was a sick man," Charlie said. "It wasn't his fault."

Don couldn't believe his ears. "Charlie, you weren't the first person he kidnapped. There were others. And they weren't so lucky. He killed them."

Charlie looked shocked. "What? How do you know?"

"Because he was in the same place at the same time of other men's kidnappings and murders," Don answered. "No one could prove it, but we're sure it was him." Charlie didn't say anything for a while. Eventually he stood up.

"Look, I need to go for a drive. Clear my head," Charlie said. Charlie started walking towards the door, but stopped short abruptly.

"You don't have to arrest me, do you?" Charlie asked worriedly. "I mean, do I have to go in front of a judge or something?" Don stood up and put his hand on Charlie's shoulder brotherly.

"No, buddy. It's okay." Don said. Charlie nodded, not looking like he felt any better. He walked slowly to his car and drove away.

Meanwhile, Don went back to the office. Colby was waiting for him and told him that the coroner's report was ready. They went over to the coroner together, where a body was on a slab, covered with a white cloth.

"What did you find?" Don asked the coroner. The coroner removed the white cloth to reveal Thomas Raymond's body. "Mr. Raymond was a strong man for his age. Calluses on his feet

and hands show he either worked manual labor or was an athlete of some kind..."

"Yeah, yeah, we already know that!" Don said impatiently. "Just tell us how he died." The coroner looked at Colby, a little annoyed.

"Okay, okay," the coroner replied. "The man was hit with a blunt object in the head, but that didn't kill him."

"What?" Don said. That part interested him. "Then what did?"

The coroner pointed to the man's lips. They were very pink. He also pointed to the man's arms, which had a pinkish hue as well.

"What causes that?" Colby said.

"Cyanide poisoning," the coroner answered. "This man ingested a large dose of cyanide. It caused cardiac arrest. He would have been dead in a matter of minutes."

"Cyanide?" Don repeated. "Then the blow to the head wasn't what killed him."

The coroner shook his head. "No, it looks like the head injury happened several days before the poisoning. The head wound was already starting to heal. Judging by lividity, the man was probably poisoned two days ago."

Don let out a sigh of relief. "Then Charlie didn't kill Raymond."

"Somebody poisoned him," Colby added. "You wanna bet it was his partner in crime, Max?"

Don thanked the coroner and walked out with Colby. "I gotta tell Charlie. He's going to be so relieved." Don pulled out his phone and called Charlie. There was no answer. Don hung up. He figured he'd call him later.

Don and Colby went back to the office and searched all the databases they could trying to find Max until the evening. They still had no luck. Tired, Don left the office and drove to Charlie's house. Amita and Alan were there. They looked worried when Don walked in alone.

"What's wrong?" Don asked.

"We can't find Charlie," Amita said, a worried expression on his face. "He's not answering his phone."

"He hasn't come home yet," Alan added. "We just thought he was at the office with you."

Don immediately took out his cell phone and tried calling Charlie again. No answer. Don put his head in his hands. "Oh no, not again."


	10. Chapter 10

"Where could he have gone?" Alan asked aloud. Don paced back and forth.

"He was upset about Thomas Raymond's death," Don commented. "He thought he killed him! I should have never let him leave."

"What should we do?" Amita asked, worried. Don pulled out his cell phone.

"Call the hospitals," Don told Amita. "I'll call David and put out an A.P.B…."

The front door opening interrupted Don. Charlie walked in.

"Hey everybody," Charlie said casually. Everyone just stared at him.

"What?" Charlie asked, a little bewildered.

"Where the hell were you?" Don shouted. Amita ran over and gave Charlie a hug. Charlie accepted it, confused.

"Uh, I went for a drive," Charlie answered. "I told you that." Alan let out a sigh of relief.

Don paced, his adrenaline still up. He didn't know whether to hug Charlie or kill him. "You weren't answering your cell phone. We thought something happened to you."

"I'm sorry," Charlie said sincerely. "I turned my cell phone off." Amita released him. "You okay?" he asked Amita. She nodded.

"I'm just glad you're okay," she said. After everyone calmed down, Don pulled Charlie aside.

"Listen, the coroner did the autopsy on Thomas Raymond," Don told Charlie. "You didn't kill him. He was poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Charlie repeated. "But I hit him with the bat."

"Yes, but that just wounded him," Don replied. "He was killed days later, probably by his partner Max." Charlie let out a sigh of relief.

"I can't believe it," Charlie said to himself. Don put his arm around Charlie and walked into the living room.

"Now all we have to do is find Max," Don said.

Charlie nodded. "Tell me how I can help."

**Five days later**

Charlie and Don sat across from each other at the FBI office, frustrated. Papers were spread across the desk. Charlie rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I've been looking at mug shots for days. He's not here." Don leaned across the desk.

"That just means he's never been caught. We'll find him."

Charlie stood up. "It's no use, Don. He's probably long gone by now." Don didn't want to admit it, but he believed the same thing. Don stood up too.

"Why don't you go home?" he told Charlie. "I'll call you if we find anything." Charlie gave a sad nod of approval and walked out. After he left, Don picked up one of the files and threw it against the wall angrily. He had no leads on this man. He was a ghost. Don feared he'd never find Max. David walked in. Don immediately started barking orders, but David stopped him.

"Boss, I'm sorry," David said. "But I've already been reassigned to another case."

"What?" Don said. "By who?"

"By higher up," David replied. "We have other cases, you know. In case you haven't noticed, you have two bank robberies, a drug trafficking case, and another serial kidnapper on your desk."

"What serial kidnapper?" Don asked, rummaging through the files he never opened his week. "Could he be connected to Max?"

David huffed. "No, we already know who it is." David found the file on Don's desk and opened it up. It revealed a heavyset man in his late forties. "Joseph Randall. He kidnaps young women, rapes them, and then kills them. Police have found three women already. Have you not even looked at the file?" David said, a little angrily. Don sighed audibly. He was so obsessed with solving Charlie's case that he was totally neglecting his other duties.

David noticed and softened his voice. "Look Don, I understand this is personal for you. But Charlie is home now. He's safe. You need to let this go." Don took a moment to think. He realized David was right.

**Two Weeks Later**

Don walked into the Eppes house, ready to crash from exhaustion. His father was in the living room, watching television alone.

"Hey, dad," Don said, dropping his stuff. "Where's Charlie?" Alan somberly pointed towards the basement. Don huffed. For the past week, Charlie had been down in their basement for hours each day, attempting to regain the mathematical talent he seemed to have lost. It didn't seem like he was having any luck. Don grabbed two beers and went down to the basement. Charlie had the chalkboards out but nothing was written on them but scribbles. The place was a mess. Charlie had stubble on his face and his clothes were dirty.

"Hey, buddy," Don said to Charlie. "Why don't you take a break?" Charlie kept facing the chalkboard.

"I almost had it," he mumbled. "It's there, I just…" Charlie dropped the chalk in his hand and pushed the chalkboard away angrily. "I can't stand this!" Charlie wrung his hair and paced. "I can't do it!" Charlie yelled. "I try, but it's all a blank. How can I be a mathematician, a professor, if I can't do math!"

"Charlie, give it time," Don answered calmly. "It will come back."

"What if it never does?" Charlie screamed frantically. "What if I never remember? I can't live like this, Don. I can't!" Don went over to Charlie to give him a hug, but Charlie shrugged him off.

"No, just leave me alone, Don!" Charlie answered. "Please, just leave me alone." Don didn't know what to do. Charlie turned back towards the chalkboard and stared at it. Don finally left.

**Five weeks later**

Don was at the office until late again. His team had managed to hunt down the drug traffickers but the bank robberies still eluded them. Plus, a woman named Jennifer Talworth had gone

missing. They suspected it was the work of the serial kidnapper, Joseph Randall, but they still hadn't found him or the first woman he had taken. Don was feeling pretty useless at his job.

He finally gave up for the day and got into his car. He sat there for a few minutes. Part of him wanted to go back to his apartment and just sleep. But he made a promise to his dad that

he'd come by a few nights a week and hang out with Charlie. Charlie was no longer hanging out in the basement trying to find his genius. Now it seemed like he had just given up

completely. Most of the time, Charlie just hung around the house watching television. No one could cheer him up but at least when Don came over they could have a conversation about

sports or something. So Don put aside his sleepiness and came over to the Eppes house.

Alan was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Charlie was setting the table. Alan stopped and greeted Don when he came in. Charlie didn't look up. They ate dinner pretty much in silence. Don

attempted a conversation with Charlie, without much luck. When he started probing too much, Charlie huffed and took his dinner plate into the living room. Alan called after him but Don

told his dad to let it go. Alan sighed and started cleaning up the table. Don helped him.

"I don't know what to do about your brother, Don," Alan stated, cleaning the dishes. "It's like he's a shell of himself." Don dried the dishes.

"I don't know either," Don answered. "Right now, I'm feeling completely helpless. I can't find one of the men who did this to my brother. I can't solve my other cases at work. I can't do

anything!"

"It's not your fault, Don," Alan ensured. "You're not a superhero. You try your best. That's all you can do."

Don shook his head. "My best isn't good enough."

"You know," Alan started. "This reminds me of when you were eighteen and baseball had fallen through. You thought you were a failure, right? But then you tried out for the Academy, and you…"

The sound of glass crashing in the living room stopped Alan. Don and Alan ran into the living room. The broken dinner plate lay by Charlie's feet. He was staring at the television with a

frightened look on his face.

"What happened?" Don asked, surprised. "What is it?" Charlie just pointed at the television set. A real estate advertisement was playing. A man in his thirties stood in front of a large

house. He had on a business suit with a bright blue tie on, baring all of his teeth. "Looking for that dream house?" the man said. "A place to raise a family? Then call me: Russell Taylor. Our

prices cannot be beat." A phone number flashed on the screen and a picture of a happy family in a big house. The man came back on screen, a cocky grin on his face. "Hamptons Real

Estate. Where all your fantasies can come true." The advertisement ended and a television show began. Don looked back at Charlie, who was still staring at the television.

"That was him," Charlie said. He looked at Don. "That was Max."


	11. Chapter 11

"Charlie, are you sure?" Don asked his brother.

Charlie nodded his head adamantly. "That's him, Don." Don took out his cell phone and dialed.

"David, it's me," Don said into the phone. "Get Colby and come into the office…I know it's late, but Charlie's ID'ed Max. His real name is Russell Taylor and he is a real estate agent for, uh, Hamptons Real Estate…Okay, see you there." Don hung up, grabbed his stuff, and headed for the door. Charlie stopped him.

"Wait, I'm coming with you," he said.

Don shook his head. "You can't. You have to stay here." Charlie started to protest, but Don insisted. "Charlie, you need to let me take it from here." Charlie didn't say anything. Don punched his shoulder brotherly. "You did good." And Don left. Charlie huffed and fidgeted.

"You okay?" Alan asked. Charlie looked at his father and then the door.

"No," Charlie said to his father. "Not really." And he went to his room.

Meanwhile, Don, David, and Colby found Russell Taylor's address and went to his house to arrest him. It was a large house in a gated community. All the lights were on and there was loud music coming from inside. A beautiful woman answered the door. She was wearing a red dress that clung to her body and holding a champagne bottle in her hand.

"Well, hello," she said seductively. "Come to join the party?" Don flashed his badge.

"FBI, ma'am," Don said, shoving his way through the door. "We need to speak to Russell Taylor." There were probably thirty people in the living room alone. They all were drinking and mingling. Many of the men had business suits on.

"Where's Russell Taylor?" Don asked the crowd. A blond man and two girls on his shoulder approached Don.

"Whose asking?" the man said. This time, David and Colby flashed their badges. The blond man grinned.

"Upstairs," he said. "Celebrating."

"Stay here," Don told David. Don and Colby went upstairs and nudged through several couples making out in the hallway. They opened several bedrooms until they found the one Russell Taylor was in. He was lying in bed shirtless with a young Asian woman in lingerie.

"Russell Taylor?" Colby called out. Russell turned his head.

"Can I help you?" he said casually.

"FBI," Don reported. "You're under arrest." Russell smirked and went back to kissing the woman. Colby and Don pulled him off of her and stood him up. Russell put his hands up.

"Easy, there." Russell replied. "What am I being accused of?"

"Kidnapping," Don answered, taking his cuffs out. "And murder."

Russell laughed. "You got nothing on me." Colby threw him a shirt. Russell put it on slowly.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Colby said smugly.

Don had attempted to interrogate Russell that night, but all he would say was that he wanted his high-priced attorney, Larry Feldman. The next morning, the lawyer arrived, along with Charlie.

"Charlie, what are you doing here?" Don asked him.

"I want to watch the interrogation," he answered.

"I can't let you do that," Don said. "You're not a police officer. You're an eyewitness and a victim: our one shred of evidence."

"I'll just watch from behind the mirror," Charlie insisted. "I won't disrupt." Don started to protest, but this time, Charlie won out.

"Don, please," Charlie begged. "I want to see you put this guy behind bars." Don finally agreed. Charlie and Colby stood behind the mirror. Don and David walked into the interrogation room where Russell Taylor and Larry Feldman sat.

"So," Don started, opening up a file. "Russell Taylor."

"Oh, please," Russell interrupted. "Call me Max." He smiled at Don.

Charlie looked at Colby. "Why would he…"

"Because he knows he's caught," Colby answered.

"Max," Don continued. "This interview is just a formality. We are arresting you on the charges of kidnapping, assault, and murder."

"You have no proof," Larry Feldman started.

"We have a victim who has ID'ed Mr. Taylor as one of his kidnappers," Don stated.

"Ah, yes," Max replied. "Your little brother, right?" Max stared at the mirror, seemingly looking right at Charlie. "Charles Eppes." He said into the mirror. Charlie shuttered a little.

"Then you admit it?" Don said.

"My client doesn't admit anything," the lawyer quickly replied.

"Sure, I admit it," Max said smugly.

"Russell," the lawyer warned.

"It's okay," Max said. He turned to Don. "I picked him out for Raymond. When I saw the professor's picture in the newspaper, that curly black hair, I knew Raymond would like him."

"So you helped Raymond kidnap Charles Eppes?" David asked.

"No," Max replied, leaning back on his chair casually. "Thomas did that all on his own. I just pointed him in that direction."

"That still makes you an accessory," David added. "When did you decide to kill him?"

"Raymond?" Max asked. He smiled to himself. "When he stopped being useful." The lawyer frantically tried to get Max to stop, but Max continued. "He came to me in a state of shock. His dear little boy had hit him with a baseball bat. I stopped the bleeding, told him everything was going to be okay. Then I gave him a drink of whiskey to block out the pain." Max giggled to himself. "I guess he was so upset he didn't notice the cyanide. Too bad. I had been saving that baby for some time now." Max leaned in, facing Don. "I had planned on using it on your brother, when Raymond was finished with him. It's a powerful poison, Agent Eppes. First, the victim starts breathing hard. Then confusion sets in and they start seizing. Pretty soon, their lungs and their heart give out and they just slip away. I would have liked watching your brother die that way." Don clenched his fist angrily. It took everything in him not to respond.

"So you were going to kill Charles Eppes," David commented. "Is that what happened with the other victims? You murdered them after Raymond got tired of them?"

"You don't have to answer that," Larry told Max.

"No, I want them to understand," Max said. "I don't care much for the kidnapping and the holding part. It's boring. I'm more like a murderer for hire."

Charlie watched, stunned from behind the mirror. "He's confessing to everything!" he said to Colby. "Why?"

Colby looked at Max. "Some criminals, when they know they're caught, want the police to understand why they did it. But I don't think that's it…"

"Thomas Raymond wanted so much for his son to come home," Max continued. "I just helped him find suitable replacements. But eventually, after a few months, he'd get tired of them. Start to realize that they weren't really his son. So he'd come to me. I offered to help him out, clean up the garbage, so to speak."

"The garbage?" Don repeated, trying not to pummel this guy. "How many did you kill for him?"

"Four, maybe five," Max said casually. He smiled widely at Don. "But if you want their names, it's gonna cost you."

Don stood up. "You're not getting a cent from us! You like poison so much. Well, you have the lethal injection to look forward to." Don started to walk out.

"You don't want to do that," Max called after him.

"Why not?" David asked, standing to walk out with Don.

Max put his hands behind his head casually. "Because Thomas Raymond isn't the only one I've helped out." Don stopped walking. He turned back towards Max. Max looked back at him. "Does the name Joseph Randall ring a bell?" Don gritted his teeth and slowly walked back around the desk to his seat.

Max grinned smugly. "Yeah, now Joseph's a different breed altogether. He's not as selective as Raymond. He'll take any ol' woman I find. And he likes to spend time with his victims. Gets to know them inside and out before he's done with them."

"Where is he?" Don asked, anger welling up in his throat.

Max looked at his nails casually. "Oh, he's seeing a girl right now: Jennifer, I think. Jennifer Talworth."

Don held his breath. She was the girl that went missing a few days ago. "Where is he holding her?" Don asked Max.

Max smirked. "You take the death penalty off the table and I'll not only tell you where she is, but I'll tell you where we buried the other bodies."


	12. Chapter 12

"Absolutely not!" The DEA exclaimed. Don had just gone to the district attorney's office and told her about Max's ultimatum. Susan Connor, the district attorney, adamantly refused to listen.

"This guy is responsible for the kidnappings and deaths of at least 5 people," she continued. "He's confessed to it all! I'm not taking the death penalty off the table."

"Believe me, I want to get this guy just as much as you do," Don replied. "I mean, he kidnapped and assaulted my brother! Would have killed him if Charlie hadn't escaped. But we have

to think about Jennifer Talworth. He can tell us where she is."

"Don't you have any leads on Joseph Randall, the guy who took her?" Susan asked.

Don shook his head. "He's a ghost. Every time we get close, he bolts and the woman turns up dead."

"How do you know Jennifer Talworth's not already dead?" Susan asked.

Don sighed. "I don't. But she's 26 years old and Russell Taylor is our only shot at saving her life. Plus I bet you there are more bodies than we've accounted for. He can tell us where they

are, give the families some closure. But if we make this deal, we have to do it now. Otherwise, it will be too late."

"It may already be too late," Susan remarked. Don put his hands on his hips and looked down on the ground.

"It's our only move here," he replied. Susan Connor paced behind her desk, thinking. Finally, she grabbed her jacket. "C'mon." They walked out together.

Russell "Max" Taylor sat smugly at the interrogation room in the State Prison with his lawyer. Don and the DEA walked in.

"Well, hello," Max said seductively to the DEA. He extended his hand. "And to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Susan Connor sat across from him, not shaking his hand. "Save it, buddy," she answered. "I'm not impressed."

Max turned to his lawyer with a smirk. "Feisty one she is."

"Max, this is the district attorney," Larry Feldman said warningly. Max didn't seem altered.

"Listen," Susan said to Larry Feldman. "We are prepared to offer your client life in prison without parole if he gives us the location of all the bodies he's buried and the location of Jennifer

Talworth. Provided we find her and she's still alive, we are prepared to take the death penalty off the table."

"You can't expect my client to agree to that," Larry stated. "We have no control over whether or not you find her alive."

"That's the deal," Susan persisted. "Take it or leave it."

Max sneered, leaning forward. "The deal, sweetheart, is that I tell you where Joseph Randall was last seen with Jennifer Talworth and you take the death penalty off the table. For the

location of the rest of the bodies, it's gonna cost you extra."

"What?" Don exclaimed. "You have got to be kidding me."

Max leaned back, looking casually at his nails. "For that information, I want my own cell and I want extra time outside in the exercise pen."

Susan stood up. "This is ridiculous. Your client isn't serious. We're done here."

"I promise I am very serious, Ms. District Attorney," Max answers. "The clock is ticking on young Jennifer. Tick tock, tick tock."

"Tell us where she is!" Don screamed.

Max leaned in to stare into Don's eyes. "Then take the death penalty off the table."

Don looks at Susan Connor pleadingly. She still looked unsure.

"You are wasting precious time…" Max taunted.

"Fine!" Susan conceded, sitting back down. "The death penalty is off. Now where is she?"

Max smiled widely. "414 Reinhardt Street."

Thirty minutes later, Don along with David, Colby, and a SWAT team drove up to the house. It was a large development with new houses. 414 was a house that Russell Taylor was working to sell as a real estate agent. In hindsight, it was the best hiding place. SWAT stormed into the house, guns drawn, but the house was empty. Don took some of the team down into the basement. They found a bed with ruffled covers and handcuffs hanging from it with a chair next to it. The room was dirty and a pair of ladies' underwear was on the floor. A coffee maker and a mug filled with coffee were on a snack table in the corner. Don felt the cup. It was warm.

"Dammit!" Don swore. "We just missed him." He turned to the SWAT team. "Scour the neighborhood, and get me prints, tire tracks, some kind of evidence. He couldn't have gotten very far." David and Colby approached Don.

"Put Joseph Randall's and Jennifer's Talworth's photo up everywhere," Don ordered. "And I mean everywhere! Toll booths, gas stations, nearby developments. I want them found!" David and Colby nodded and went to work. Don cursed again. Now Max had his deal and Joseph Randall was long gone. Who knew if Jennifer Talworth was still alive? And even if she was, who's to say they would find her? Don was running out of options, and time.


	13. Chapter 13

"Where would he take her?" Don screamed at Max. He was pacing in the interrogation room. Max calmly sat at the table.

"How should I know?" Max answered nonchalantly.

"You were his partner," Don said. "Where would he go?"

Max shrugged. "Beats me," he said, smirking evilly. Don glared at him, fuming.

"I'm bored," Max finally said, yawning and stretching theatrically as he stood up. "I think I'll go back to my cell now." Don grabbed Max by the collar angrily and shoved him against the wall.

"Listen, you bastard," Don said through gritted teeth. "You better start helping me find Joseph Randall or I swear I will make your life so unpleasant in this hellhole that you'll be praying for the lethal injection just to end your suffering! Do you hear me?"

Max smiled. "Why don't you try 1313 Mockingbird Lane, or 221 Baker Street?" Max started laughing.

Don let go of him reluctantly. He knew Max wasn't going to help him. Don called for the guard to come in and take Max.

"Or better yet," Max continued mockingly. "Check out the houses in the Napoleon Complex. Get it? Napoleon Complex!" Max was still laughing when the guards took him away.

Don hustled back to the office, where David and Colby were working around the clock with other officers to find Jennifer Talworth. They were both on the phone.

"Any luck?" Don called to Colby. Colby shook his head.

"Then widen your search," David said into the phone. "I don't care if it will cost you overtime; I need security checks at every toll booth in the state. We can't risk him fleeing." Don walked past him, overwhelmingly tired and ready to give up. He hadn't slept in three days.

"Don," David called to him, putting his hand over the phone receiver. "Your brother's here." He pointed to Don's office, where Charlie stood.

"Charlie," Don greeted his brother as he walked into the office. "What are you doing here?"

"Any luck?" Charlie asked Don.

Don shook his head, going to sit down behind the desk. Colby stopped him by calling Don from the hallway. Don huffed. "I need to get back out there. Just go home. I'll call you if we learn anything." Don walked back out. Charlie looked sympathetically at his brother and his team. He wished there was some way he could help.

Charlie sauntered into an unused room. There was a chalkboard to one side and several whiteboards filled with maps and photos of Joseph Randall, Jennifer Talworth, and housing developments worked by Russell Taylor. Charlie stood at the photos for a while, and then the map. He then walked over to the chalkboard and stared at that for a long while. Memories flashed before his eyes. He couldn't make out at first what they were. More flashes went by, and Charlie rubbed his eyes to get them to stop. They wouldn't. Suddenly, he realized that they weren't memories from his kidnapping; they were memories of times he had worked for the FBI. Charlie closed his eyes and concentrated. He remembered cases he helped solve through using algorithms, statistical equations, and other mathematical skills. Charlie opened his eyes and looked back at the map, then the chalkboard. An idea came into his mind. He wasn't sure, but it might work. Charlie grabbed a piece of chalk and started scribbling away.

An hour later, Don paced behind David's cubicle. "We have to be missing something," Don said, frustrated. "Did you interrogate Joseph Randall's family members?"

"Every one of them," David answered. "And we searched their houses. They're clean. Plus the LAPD has been scouring alleyways, river banks, and abandoned warehouses. Jennifer and her kidnapper are nowhere to be found." Don put his hands on his hips. It was getting late and he was ready to send everybody home, but Colby interrupted him.

"Don," Colby called. "I think you need to see this." Don and David followed Colby into an office. Charlie stood there. There were mathematical equations all over the chalkboard and lines drawn on the map, with several locations circled.

"Statistically," Charlie told Don, pointing to the circles on the map. "Jennifer Talworth will be in one of these houses." Don stared at Charlie in shock. David took that opportunity to approach the whiteboard.

"How do you figure that?" he asked Charlie. Charlie turned to him.

"The last place Joseph Randall kept Jennifer was in one of the houses that Max was selling, right? So statistically he is going to seek out another empty house."

"But we've checked all of Max's properties," David remarked. "They're empty."

"Correct," Charlie answered. "But see, Joseph Randall wouldn't be that stupid. He knew you'd check all the houses that Max had access to. It would be the first place you'd look. So he needed to find another empty house. He couldn't risk going to a friend's or a family member's residence, and with all the blockades you've put up, he couldn't have left the city." Charlie handed Don a file.

"This is the list of all the empty properties Hampton Real Estate is in charge of selling." Charlie said.

"Okay," Don remarked, looking at the list. "But Russell Taylor doesn't have access to all of these."

"He doesn't have to," Charlie said. "All he had to do was tell Joseph Randall which houses would be vacated."

"There are over two hundred properties listed here," Don commented.

Charlie turned back to the map. "Right, but if take away houses where previous owners are still living, that narrows it down to about 75. Figure he'll be looking for a house with a basement or some contained area to keep Jennifer, and he'll need a garage to hide his car, that narrows it down to these 20 houses." Don looked at the map.

"It's worth a try," he said. Don then turned to David.

"Call the LAPD," Don ordered. "Take a team and check these twenty houses. Tell the officers to use extreme caution." David and Colby scurried out. Don turned to his brother. He smiled. His brother had found the math again. Charlie smiled back.


	14. Chapter 14

Don sat in an interrogation room in the state prison. Max strolled in with a guard, who sat him across from Don.

"Well, well," Max said to Don smugly. "Just couldn't stay away, huh?" Don grinned back. The guard went to leave but Don motioned for him to stay.

"Don't go far," Don told him. "This won't take long." The guard stood by the door.

"Aww, and I was hoping you'd come for a conjugal visit," Max teased. "How's your search going?"

Don smirked. "We found Joseph Randall, and Jennifer Talworth." Max's face dropped.

"You're lying," he said. Don leaned in.

"No, actually we found the house you told him was vacant. 315 Rhodes Lane, right? Joseph Randall put up a fight but we apprehended him. And we found Jennifer alive." Don opened a file of photos and laid them out in front of Max. They were photos of bodies dug up from dirt. "Your pal Joseph was very willing to cooperate once we told him you ratted him out."

"I didn't rat him out!" Max exclaimed.

"Right, but he doesn't know that," Don replied. "He told us how you killed all these women for him. Even pointed us to where you hid the bodies. With evidence like this, I doubt you'll escape the needle."

"We made a deal," Max said, starting to sweat. "You and that bitch DEA can't go back on it!"

Don stood up and closed the file. "Oh, we don't have to. See, some of the first women you killed with Joseph were in Texas. The Austin Police Department is very anxious to try you for your crimes there. Pending federal and state charges, we've agreed to hand you off to them provided that your sentence meets the minimum of life in prison without parole. I doubt they'll be as lenient as we were. Goodbye, Max." Don turned to leave. Max jumped up to grab him but the guard wrestled him down.

"You son of a bitch," Max screamed angrily. "You can't do this to me!" Don opened the door so the guard could take Max out.

"How did you do it?" Max asked frantically. "How did you find them?" Don smiled as Max was dragged away.

"Math doesn't lie," he replied.


	15. Chapter 15

A few days later, Don arrived at the Eppes house that evening to find Charlie and his father playing chess. His father looked like he was struggling.

"Hey, Don," Alan Eppes said. "Come on over here and help me beat your brother."

Charlie smiled knowingly. Don glanced over the board. "I don't think anything can help you, Dad." Don commented. Alan studied the board harder. Don sat between them. He turned to Charlie.

"So the case on Russell Taylor and his accomplices is finally closed," Don said. Charlie took a deep breath. Don patted him on the shoulder.

"We couldn't have done it without your help," Don said.

Charlie shrugged. "I'm glad my kidnapping helped you," he said sarcastically.

Don started to protest but Charlie waved him off with a smile. "I know what you meant."

"All of those murders," Alan commented. "It's amazing how long Taylor and his associates got away with it."

Don agreed. "Thank God he's finally behind bars."

Charlie's cell phone rang. It was Amita. "Hey Amita," Charlie said into the phone. "That's great, thanks. I'll be there tomorrow. See you soon." Charlie hung up proudly.

"Amita talked to the Dean," Charlie told his brother and father. "I'm getting two senior level classes to teach next semester."

"That's great," Don replied. "So you're going back to teach." Charlie nodded happily.

"Maybe before then you can look at some of these cases for me," Don said, pulling out some files from his briefcase and handing them to Charlie.

"No, no, no," Alan said, looking intently at the chessboard. "Not until we finish this." Charlie smiled at Don and glanced through the files. Don went into the kitchen for a beer. He opened the bottle and stood at the threshold for a moment, watching his father curse over the chess game and his brother rummaging through the files, already coming up with mathematical algorithms that made no sense to Don. Don smiled. Things were back to normal.

THE END


End file.
